


Like a Drum

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Reichenbach, unintentional daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was originally meant to be a chapter in Paint Myself... And since it is established relationship it should probably be taken as part of that story.</p><p>But since it is just porn... actually without anything approaching plot... I'm going to post it separately and you can add it into which ever of my Johnstrade fics best suits your fancy.</p><p>There is mention of a past relationship with Sherlock... sexually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Drum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatworldinverted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatworldinverted/gifts), [a_xmasmurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/gifts).



> This is entirely the fault of ThatWorldInverted... and Monster for encouraging this. Interrosand provided most excellent beta'ing... of course any mistakes are my own.

 

John tries, _god_ does he try... every time Greg calls him a good boy. He tries, opens his mouth to say something, _fuck off old man_. 

 

Except. 

 

Fucking _christ_ it’s hot... the way it rolls off Greg’s tongue and down John’s spine. He hates it... and it’s amazing.

 

There’s not that much of a difference in their ages, still enough that if they’d gone to the same school they’d have been forms apart. John can almost imagine fawning over Greg at school, knows that Greg would have been the sort of bad boy that you are only supposed to find in John Hughes movies. 

 

It gets harder and harder, every time Greg does it... to find the annoyance, to find the sense of righteous indignation that he felt the first time it had happened.

 

Granted, the first time Greg’s cock had been at the back of John’s throat. John’d been unwilling to complain, too busy to even really let it register. 

 

It happens more and more often, the praise triggering John’s lizard brain and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from answering... and not with _jog on geezer._

 

It’s one thing... not to mind... a completely different thing to want _more._  

 

But more is good... more is what they do... There is always more to be had.. the uncoordinated movements of Greg’s hand wrapped around both their cocks, too much slick, and a mistimed twitch of John’s hips pulls his cock free and lodges him between Greg’s thighs.

 

“ _Fuck_...” John hasn’t wanted it. Had at first been actively trying not to think about wanting Greg like that. _I can’t have him like Sherlock._ His brain being tied up by misplaced feelings of guilt and shame; they _are_ misplaced... he hasn’t anything to be ashamed of... Saved from having to bring it up by Greg’s preferences. 

 

So it should be strained, Greg should push him away. He tenses under John, and for a moment, between the stopping and the starting of John’s heart, Greg’s hands move to push John away. John melts as he holds John steady, shifts and opens for him, settling John deeper between his legs. 

 

“You don’t have to... I know you don’t like it.” John tries to pull free, to take a step backwards.

 

“Won’t get me off, but I like it well enough. You want to.” Greg’s fingers dig into John’s arse, he’s pushing, lifting his hips and moving against John; that almost does it, Greg needy and wriggling under him, the teasing gleam in Greg’s eye belying the way he moans when John’s cock slides over his hole.

 

“You are a wicked man Greg Lestrade. What I ought to do is fold you in half and fuck you until you scream my name.”

 

Greg’s hips rise and the head of John’s cock catches, pressing into Greg’s warmth. John’s arms give out, buckling at the elbows and dropping him onto Greg’s chest. He mouths at Greg’s shoulder, teeth catching the flesh as he sinks deeper. He wants to go slow, savour the sensation but Greg pulls him down, one hand on the back of John’s neck and the other on the curve of John’s hip. He’s controlling it, but he’s not going slow, relentlessly letting John fill him. When John finally bottoms out... he doesn’t want to move. Greg is so tight around him John isn’t sure he can, _don’t be stupid Watson, of course you can._  

 

Greg solves that problem too, moving his hips against John, tiny circles that don’t count as thrusts but pull and slide along John’s cock. John whimpers and he’s got to be bruising Greg’s shoulder with his teeth. And that’s fine because Greg turns his head and presses his lips against John’s skull whispering praises, and it is a _lie..._ John can feel Greg’s cock softening between them and he doesn’t care...

 

“God... I’m going to come.” He’d been close before, and now it is too much... too tight and warm and Greg moves faster and John’s arms wrap around Greg and hold him tight, he pulls Greg’s shoulders down and pushes his cock deeper. “Fuck.” Orgasms are weird... this one doesn’t feel like anything, John’s body shudders and releases and everything goes vaguely prickly... but fuck that felt good.

 

And then Greg is wincing and pushing John free of him, and it is the easiest thing in the world to slide down, go further than Greg pushed him and take Greg’s half-soft cock in his mouth. To moan when the flesh responds to his tongue and suck until Greg is hard and bucking against the back of John’s throat. 

 

John moves again of his own volition, Greg moaning protests, until John runs a slick hand over Greg’s cock and guides it into his hole. Greg’s hands hold the back of John’s thighs, support him as he grinds himself against Greg.

 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s a good boy... so tight after you come...” Greg’s hips snap up hard and quick into John and John has to cup himself to keep from crying out, his head dropping back.

 

John closes his eyes and swallows hard, throat working, trying to hold in the words. “God... _fuck me... fuck me hard... please.”_ They slide between his teeth and out into the room.

 

Greg slows, rolling his hips, fingers clenched into the flesh of John’s thighs. Savouring. Greg’s hands pry themselves free, skating over John’s skin. John moans and rolls his hips, trying to recreate the frantic speed Greg has abandoned. 

 

“Shh... I’ve got you... good boy.”  Greg smoothes his hands over the curve of John’s arse and lifts, pulling John up and holding him tight, letting the play of his own hips fuck up into John. 

 

“Ah... please... god please...” John’s cock twitches and he palms it, rolling it between his fingers. “Please.” He wants to say it, can’t even now... it’s too ridiculous. He needs though, god he needs _more_. “Please, Greg... please fuck me... _god_ you feel so good.”

 

“You getting hard for me again, baby?” 

 

Greg’s voice brings John’s eyes open, he pulls at his cock again and finds it half hard but he can’t speak... doesn’t dare open his mouth now. 

 

“Yeah, you are... look at you... gorgeous. So good...” Greg pushes up and pulls John down at the same time. “Love the way you take me... Fuck... good boy John, that’s my good boy.”

 

“Bastard.” John whines when Greg stops moving. “Fuck don’t stop. Jesus... _please.” Please daddy, fuck me._ So clear in his head he can taste it, John rolls his hips against Greg’s hands. “Please...” _daddy_ “please, don’t stop.” John forces himself to breathe through the begging, inhaling the word, keeping it for himself, letting Greg have the rest.

 

Once John starts he can’t stop, and that’s alright because Greg’s doing it. Fucking him hard and fast, rolling them over and holding John open so he can watch the long slow draws. Greg hooks John’s left leg up over his hip and pulls John towards him. John’s balls draw up and it almost hurts how hard he comes this time... all the sensations that were missing the first time crashing through him now.

 

Greg watches as John’s cock twitches, giving quick short thrusts that bump over John’s prostate and drag shudders and moans from both of them. Greg slides free as the last of John’s shaking subsides, gives his cock several quick sharp tugs, the fingers of his other hand digging into John’s knee for support. 

 

John bites his lip and turns his head away, chin up, neck exposed, hips rocking against nothing. _C’mon, come all over me... fuck I want it, give it to me._ Horrible, cliched lines from porn fill his mind and John _means_ it... wants and will never _ever_ say it out loud. 

 

The hot lines of Greg’s come send shivers through John’s skin, a last feeble thrust of his hips that barely brushes against Greg’s balls pulls a groan from Greg and adds another hot drop on John’s groin. Greg’s fingers on his knee release, trail over John’s stomach and mix the warm with the already cooled.

 

“Jesus.” John’s skin feels electric under Greg’s fingers, tendrils of sensation, sparks like lightning crackling at random angles from the contact.

 

Greg hums in agreement and leans away, over the side of the bed and grabs John’s vest from the floor. He shoots an inquiring look at John before using it to clean the come off John’s belly. 

 

John stretches under him, feeling the tug of sleep pull him down, he turns his head to the clock and groans. “How is it only half ten? It feels like you’ve been fucking me for days.” He curls on his side and Greg wraps himself around John’s back. 

 

“I’ve got some vacation days coming... could make a go of it.” Warm and rumbling against John’s ear.

 

“Mmm... take me somewhere nice... sandy beaches... never leave the hotel room.”

 

“a’right love... anywhere you like.” Greg pushes his nose into the nape of John’s neck, and John’d be hard pressed to tell which of them fell asleep first.

 


End file.
